


Warmth

by SmexyWatermelon



Category: Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Kissing, M/M, it's just, more like no pronouns but yea that tag works too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmexyWatermelon/pseuds/SmexyWatermelon
Summary: The end of times has come and gone, and now that a new dawn is rising, you finally get to say a couple of important things to dearest master thief.
Relationships: Garrett (Thief)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Warmth

_Half of their army is on your tail. Under regular circumstances, this would be the moment to call it a night and run away with your lives, except you so regrettably lack the option at the moment.  
Garrett knows this too: his movements all carry such a tense worry. He had to get to Erin and stop this madness, before Orion could reduce the city to ash and dust._

_Your eyes linger on the unconscious bodyguards laying on the floor. The faint shine of a sword sears your brain with a new, terrible plan.  
It feels heavy in your hands, but your fingers wrap around the familiar leather grip as if welcoming an old friend.  
You step towards the edge of the haphazard walls, ready to hold the door for as long as you can, even if that means dying by it.  
There are just too many people coming to this poor excuse of a boat to hope to reach Erin in time. You came too far just to come this far._

_“You go without me, oldtimer,”  
As soon as you move, his hand latches around your wrist. “What are you doing--“  
“Find your miss apprentice and bring her home. I’ve got our backs-” There’s a finality to your words that doesn’t welcome any rebut. Fingers slowly loosen, releasing your wrist just to twine with your own fingers, accepting the situation but not quite ready to let go._

_You could swear there’s something more in his voice as he says those words.  
“Be careful.”  
You’d smile a cocky smirk and tell him he’d better worry about himself, knowing you’d both meet up to exchange tall tales and sassy quips at dawn’s break. But you don’t have that certainty tonight.  
You force a smile anyways, ready to lie. “Always.”  
This felt heavier. Too much finality carried by that simple exchange. You let go of his hand, jumping in the fray below._

_You whistle, and several sets of eyes fall upon you._

_You see a couple of them looking past you, back to the wall above, back towards Garrett. “He’s escaping-!” It takes a split second to aim your hand crossbow at the guard. “Get that thie-“ that alarm dies in a gurgle of blood, the bolt sticking out amongst all the crimson on his throat.  
He falls to the ground with a dull thud, and the attention of all the graven members that were chasing you finally focuses solely on you.  
“So…” Careful steps as they back away, putting just enough space to be able to surround you on all sides. You feel the adrenaline pumping in your veins, painting the darkness in bright colors. “Who wants to dance?”_

_The clamor of blades resonates together, the storm drenching your clothes now thundering closer and closer.  
But it’s a fight of one against many, and soon enough blades kiss your flesh and batons darken your skin with bruises.  
You hadn’t seen the crossbow bolt coming until it was too late.  
It’s bright incandescent against your flesh, searing into the lower side of your abdomen.  
Ichor pours out of the wound, sticky and hot in between your fingers. It’s dark, too dark, almost pitch black.  
The seas are growling, long watery claws digging into the sides of the maimed ship. You can barely breathe amidst the downpour, taking strained gasps of air at every opportunity._

_And there’s only more claws and pale eyeless stares surrounding you. The noise of claws digging into armor and flesh vibrates inside your skull, against your teeth, and all is darkness and drowning-_

It takes a moment to snap out of that. Shallow breaths turn into deeper ones, and you forcibly remind yourself the danger is long gone. The weight of your body against the couch, the warmth of the frayed blanket wrapped around you… it all sinks in, slowly but surely.  
You were safe. Relatively speaking, of course. But as safe as these times could afford.  
The fever is still present, but it’s slowly losing its bite. Your body feels tender, worn by last night’s events.

Somebody else is in the room.  
There’s a quiet rustling, a shuffle of something just not quiet enough, that your trained ears could pick up even as you slept, wounding your sore mind with how loud it sounds when compared to the quiet emptiness of the inn. You sluggishly crack your eyes open, fighting against the sleep that’s still stubbornly clinging at their edges.

“…S-so loud-“

You give a couple of small coughs, and your side pulses in brief, sharp pain with the pressure. Your voice is coarse from all the painkillers and sleep. You hear the sound of cheap china rudely clinking together, and some liquid being poured into the shallow container.  
You perk your head upright, your sore back and side immediately objecting against the small movement. The room is dark, but you’d recognize that lurking shadow anywhere.

“Speak for yourself,” And that honeyed deep voice, carrying in its words only the faintest trace of snark. “The guards only need follow your snoring to catch us.” He pauses, smelling the aroma of the freshly brewed tea, before taking a tentative first taste.

“You’re alive.” You exclaim, hearing the surprise in your own words.  
You’d normally avoid showing such pleasure at seeing him all in one piece, but after all, last night had been anything but normal.  
Garrett deigns a glance towards you. The candlelight barely illuminates the opaque dark leathers he’s clad in; his armor is scratched and torn in different spots, though it’s still serviceable. It matches the fatigued stance his body is curving under.  
You suppress the relieved sigh that’s currently weighing on your chest.

He looks… tired. So, so tired.

You fall back against the couch, breathing out at the strain. “Just my luck… remind me I owe Basso a drink.” _Even more tired,_ you muse as he condescendingly rolls his eyes.

You smile, the usual smug sneer you know he so despises, obtaining an undignified scoff in return. “I thought I’d find you face down in a ditch.” He sighs, with just a tad too much disappointment to sound serious.  
“And wouldn’t that be so impolite of me,” You push yourself in a sitting position, ribs protesting underneath tender muscles. “I wouldn’t dream of causing you such heartbreak.”  
More haughtiness replaces the tired look on his face. A good sign, given the circumstances.

“How thoughtful,” He deadpans.  
Your fingers brush the sleep off your eyes.  
“Now, don’t keep me on my toes. What happened back there?” He finishes the cup of tea and leaves it on the table, never looking directly towards you.  
“I’ll spare you the details, lest your newfound kind heart doesn’t bear the news.”

You snort. “You know I won’t let you off the hook that easily,”

The thief doesn’t grace you with a reply, opting instead to pace out towards the small balcony. Your eyes study his quiet stride as he moves, but you quickly remind yourself not to stare- you know all too well how the sneaky bastard has eyes even behind his head.

You clutch your side, taking in a deep breath before pushing yourself on your feet. The pain is manageable, and your legs crave a much needed stretch.  
You wrap the blanket around your shoulders and chest, nestling in the warmth your body has given off while asleep.

“I risked a couple of my lives back there,” You say, just loud enough for him to hear you outside. “The least you owe me is a good story.” You step past the threshold, his dark silhouette cutting a stark shape against the foggy background of the city.

“I’m inclined to disagree,”  
Now it’s your turn to roll eyes.  
You shoulder him next to the wooden parapet. The night sky is giving way to the familiar orange glow of the approaching sunlight. The air feels… a bit less dead. The ash is gone from the air, and dawn is announcing new winds sweeping from the East.  
The city is mending, in its own way. The process is going to be long, the gloom ever present, and the monsters would lurk in your own nightmares for possibly the rest of time. But for now, you could finally, finally breathe again.  
Silence never felt unwelcome with Garrett around. You easily get lost in it, reminiscing about nights long gone.

It was hard admitting you had missed this.

You clear your throat, desperate to replace those reveries with a conversation.  
“Well, glad to see the graven didn’t hand you your ass, for one.”  
“I can second that.” He calmly gives you an up and down look. “Though I can’t say the same for you.”

“Things got rowdy,” You sheepishly admit. You can still see them, the silvery blades, reflecting the flames in the night. Your side protests in pain and you shift your weight on your other leg, disgruntled at the realization it felt barely any different. “What can I say? Fun times.” You force a smile over your face, your composure being the last little dignity you hadn’t given up for him.

He was bound to tell you at some point, and you’d rather that be sooner rather than later. “Where’s your little assistant?” You breathe out in a murmur.  
There’s a long pause before he replies. “Gone. For now.” You can’t really pick any emotion in his voice; just regret.

You make the usual face that says ‘I told you so’, but his only response is frigid indifference.  
“Who would’ve guessed your hare-brained plan wouldn’t work?”  
There’s a pause, and this time you can tell he’s just looking for some sharp words to wound you with, and failing at it, for the lack of sleep. “I changed my mind, I actually preferred you snoring. Would you kindly go back to that?”

You breathe out, knowing this wasn’t where you wanted the conversation to go. If anything, you wanted to help, and if you had come to know one thing about the thief, is that he loathed being helped.

“Most people would already take it as a given, but…” You pause, knowing he wouldn’t like what you have to say.  
“It wasn’t your fault.”

He _definitely_ didn’t like that.

“I know.”  
You sigh, leaning your hands against the railing. Your fingers accidentally brush against Garrett’s, and even in that briefest of moments, you realize his hand feels as cold as marble.  
“You’re freezing.” You start, freeing the blanket from around your form.  
He sees what you’re doing, and stops before you can offer it to him. “Don’t.”  
“Is this part of your elaborate act?”  
“Unfortunately for both of us, this is no act.”

You can tell by the way his eyes are drifting to the empty spaces far into the city, that he’s planning some new irrational nonsense.  
“You’re thinking of going after her?” This finally makes him snap out of it, turning his head to meet your gaze.  
“If she’s out in the City right now-”  
“She knows how to take care of herself, Garrett. She’s quite the murderous individual, I’m positive she’ll be fine.”  
“She’s alone and unharmed, if they catch her-“  
“There will be plenty of time to break her out.”  
“The graven won’t wait.”  
You raise your tone, frustrated by this whole conversation. “Throwing yourself at them in this state certainly won’t help either.”  
“You don’t know the half of it-“

 _And whose fault is that-_  
“And you won’t find Erin today.” You had stopped yourself just in time. It was rare enough for him to let you get this close, and you had the nagging feeling that touching such an exposed nerve wouldn’t have done either of you any good.  
But your words do seem to resonate with him. He sighs, clearly saddened by the outcome of your conversation. “…true enough.”  
He finally lets you wrap the blanket around his shoulders. He’s not happy about it, but that still is undeniable progress.

“I…” You know that face. The one just between a lost puppy and someone about to puke.  
It’s not everyday Garrett feels obliged enough to try and thank you.  
You nudge his shoulder, making him wince out of that awkwardness. “You’re welcome.”

Your hands go back to the wooden balustrade, your feverish body basking in the fresh night air.  
You dramatically sigh, staring straight ahead at the buildings in the distance. “Helping you is exhausting…” You accompany that sentence with a snicker, but there’s so much weariness in your words.  
Winning an argument against him always felt like you were both on losing sides. You wince and close your eyelids, fatigue catching up with your mind as well.

“You should be resting.”  
“I know.” You smile at him. You both knew he could wrap you around his little finger, and no matter what, you would bend over backwards to help.  
It was quite pathetic, really. The moments you felt you had truly managed to break through to him were few and far between, and yet you craved the next one just like you missed the last.  
The fact he had disappeared out of nowhere for an entire year didn’t help either.

At first it felt impossible for him to be dead. He had to be somewhere, you just hadn’t looked hard enough. Even finding a corpse would have been better, you initially thought.  
Letting go seemed to be the best option. But you just couldn’t. Because if you let go, you admitted to yourself this part of your life was over, unrecoverable, forever. And forever is not bright, it’s not reassuring. Forever is cold and hard and final.

So when he reappeared out of nowhere a handful of days ago, not masterful and patient but reckless and brash like a wounded animal, you couldn’t just stand by and watch. Not even if the two of you were barely occasional acquaintances.  
You realize your hands have grown rigid over the railing, and bid your fingers to relax. You hadn’t really stopped to process all those feelings, what with the revolution and the plague and impending doom and all.

And just in the corner of your eye, you catch his eyes staring at your collarbone.  
You had taken a look at the rainbow bruises adorning your chest. It really wasn’t pretty.  
Thank the gods Basso’s good at what he does. The way he could cash in favors from half the apothecaries in the city was unmatchable.

Garrett’s hand moves, almost of its own accord. His gaze is fixed on your neck, but he is being deliberately slow, giving you plenty of time and opportunity to stop him, should he be threading too far. A delicate touch peels the shirt away from your shoulder, exposing the tender area to the cold night air, making you shudder at the tenderness of your own flesh.

“You weren’t kidding about those ‘couple of lives’,” There’s a tinge of sarcasm in his words, but just a tinge. His eyes scan through your half open shirt over the dark bruises adorning your skin, interrupted only by the bandages hugging your torso and neck.  
“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy-“ You try to bark a laugh, but you end up suppressing a painful cough instead, the wound on your side digging claws into your ribcage.

“How bad?” He stubbornly demands, poorly masking it as a question.  
The jolts of pain radiating from your side insistently remark their presence. “…bad enough.” His fingers linger for the briefest of moments on the wound over your waist, and you inhale sharply in anticipation for pain that is never really delivered.  
You feel your cheeks flushing with color. It was all so pathetic…

You could always hide behind the fact that without a city, there wouldn’t be much to steal in the first place.  
Quite the transparent excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Always better than admitting you had reduced yourself to this state because of him.

You meet his gaze, and just now that you’re up close you can see the shimmer in his right eye isn’t present anymore.  
“Your… eye…” His gaze immediately lowers at the sudden attention.  
You instinctively cup his cheek, gently turning his head back towards you.  
A grim smile plays over his lips. “It might be the only thing I’ve ever had to give back,”  
“Can you still see?” He looks at you for a moment before lowering his gaze again, shaking his head.

“It might come back, for all I know. Though I’m not counting on it.” He closes his eyes again, his pale skin almost glowing in the light of the rising sun.

A jolt of pain travels through your abdomen, and you hiss at the sudden ache, spreading your palm over the wound. It’s so intense it makes you stumble and almost trip, but Garrett’s hands are there at your sides to guide you against the railing, keeping you in place until it all goes away. “We make quite the pair,” he sighs, and for once you are inclined to agree with him.  
“Will you be alright?” He speaks softly, carefully. If you didn’t know him well, you’d say there was something caring in his voice.  
“In time…” You meekly nod. “We made it through the night, it’s more than I was expecting.”  
His hands feel cold against your body, even through the layer of clothing. You have to stop yourself from leaning too much against them, but they feel so good against your heated skin.

He runs his thumb along your throat, still examining the bruises. “I wish you hadn’t done this,”  
You close your eyes, and focus on keeping your tone of voice even. “Then you’d have turned up dead. Again.” Your teeth press against the inside of your lips, pushing all the sorrow back down.  
There’s a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head to the side.  
“Worried, huh? That’s so very unlike you,” he teases, fingers gently brushing stray locks out of your face.  
“One of us has to, and we both know it’s not going to be you.”

“I do worry…” he concedes, and you’re not quite sure when he got this close, but… it feels nice.  
You start when you feel cold lips press against your neck. The wounds still sting, but… his touch is welcome, and stopping him doesn’t even cross your mind. He moves down your shoulder, moving the thin linen shirt out of the way, kissing over the bandages, drawing approving gasps and moans out of you. His every touch is so cold and crisp, easing the feverish warmth that has taken hold of your body. The pain rings dull over your muscles, but it’s an acceptable tradeoff.

“G-Garrett-“ He immediately stops and puts some space between you, unsure whether he had trespassed a line.  
He’s in-between muttering an apology when you crush your lips against his, taking in his taste. He freezes, and for an interminable second, you feel your heart sinking inside your chest.  
But then he kisses you back, pressing you against the railing, trapping you between it and his own body.  
He takes greedy kisses and for once gives back just as willingly. You shift his hood back, fingers twining between untamed dark hair.  
His arms wrap around you, just tight enough to hurt a bit. You pull back, breathless and wanting more all at the same time. Your noses brush together, and you pull him in for a hug, idle fingers clinging to the back of his shroud.

He holds you close to his chest, like something precious he cannot afford to lose. He nudges your head against his shoulder, so he can speak right into your ear.  
“Before… I…” He gulps, fighting to get the words out. “I feared that might’ve been a goodbye.” There’s a distinct tremble in his voice that had never been there before.  
You smile, and it hurts to admit you thought the same. “I know the feeling.” You exhale deeply, feeling the tension wash away from you now that you’re in his arms. “I thought I’d drag myself here just to have Basso tell me you were gone.”  
Lithe hands run down the length of your arms, interrupting their movement only to hold your hands.  
You can still get so easily lost in his eyes, it had stopped being funny so long ago…  
You look down, painfully aware of the blush spreading again over your cheeks. A moment passes, and cold knuckles caress your cheek.

…what were you two doing? Why now, of all times?

Before you can speak, someone else does it for you.

“Garrett?” You both release your hands at the same time, feigning indifference. Basso’s round face peeps inside the room. “Ah. Am I- _interrupting_ something?” There was too much entertainment in his voice for your taste.  
“No, you aren’t.” You drawl, taking your time to lie properly. Garrett raises his brows at you, but there’s a playful smirk on his face.

Basso takes a long hard look at the two of you. “Absolutely, I see I’m not prying at all.” The levels of sarcasm are off the charts.  
Before it turns into an all out sass war, Garrett intercedes. “Something you need?”

“I could use your help downstairs with some… blueprints,”  
You get the distinct feeling that was Basso’s talk for some other insane job to pull, but at this point you neither have the mental nor physical capability to stop those two.  
“I’ll be there in a minute.”  
Basso just nods and… _lingers_ , as if expecting gossip to just come knocking at his door.

Garrett’s stare could have burnt holes into him, and after a couple of interminable seconds he finally takes the message and leaves you alone again.

He pulls the blanket from around his shoulders, circling it around you and caringly pulling it closed over your chest. “You should rest up.”  
“Not like I’ve got exactly a choice in the matter…”

You pause, finding it hard to let him go now. “Don’t get into trouble without me.”  
“I’d never dream of it.” He kisses your forehead before stepping back inside the building, quickly pulling the hood back in place.

Your hands go to your elbows, brushing the cold away. It all feels dreadfully hollow without him.


End file.
